


Polaroid

by See_Kay_Write



Series: Stiles Stilinkski, Private Detective [1]
Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Future Fic, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-02
Updated: 2015-12-02
Packaged: 2018-05-04 15:33:43
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 769
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5339321
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/See_Kay_Write/pseuds/See_Kay_Write
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“My son, the private detective.”</p><p>“Don’t even, Dad,” Stiles pointed an accusing can of coke at him. “That was eighty percent pride I heard in your tone anyway.  No need for the surprised act, you very much saw this coming.  There was schooling and loans, so many loans and all those months where I wasn’t actually here-”</p>
            </blockquote>





	Polaroid

Five years out:

“My son, the private detective.”

“Don’t even, Dad,” Stiles pointed an accusing can of coke at him.  “That was eighty percent pride I heard in your tone anyway.  No need for the surprised act, you very much saw this coming.  There was schooling and loans, so many loans and all those months where I wasn’t actually here-”

“Followed up by an online private detective certification,” he pointed out, hiding a smirk.

“Do not mock the certificate!  I poured hours into the certificate! There is a whole criminal justice degree behind the certificate!”

“I’m not mocking the degree or the certificate,” John cut in before it could turn into a full-fledged rant, again.  “I’m proud of you, you’ve done a lot of work for this.”

“You are giving in surprisingly quickly,” Stiles eyed him.

“I am completely sincere in the pride,” John assured him.

Mollified, Stiles moved on, “There is no need to be surprised or wonder where you went wrong in your life choices to get to the point where your son became a private detective instead of a deputy.”

“Well I wasn’t until ten seconds ago,” John mused at the ceiling, “I can’t say I’m thrilled about you not having police academy training or back up in the form of a swat team for some of the stuff you ran around after in high school let alone now.”

“I have a concealed carry permit from your office, with your signature, with a training course that wound up beyond even the higher end of 24 hours' worth and what felt suspiciously stricter than everyone else was getting.” John maintained an innocent look.  “I passed the background check, and filled the had a good cause requirement.  I’m both a resident and of good enough moral character.  All fields checked.  Plus Braeden said she would swing this way for a few weeks to give me some other pointers.”

“Braeden, the paid mercenary with some very prominent scars on her neck where a werewolf tried to slash her throat.  That Braeden?,” John raised an eyebrow.

“It’s rude to stare.  That Braeden that will kick all of our collective asses up and down the street if she felt like it or got paid enough and then felt like it,” Stiles waved off the objection airily but quickly looked serious.  His gaze dropped down to John’s arm, where there was a faint scar, only noticeable if you knew where to look.  “It’s not like you don’t have scars either, Dad.  It’s not like I don’t have any already.  I’m not in a hurry to collect more.  But it’s not any safer to be a cop, and… Look, I know this stuff is out there, and I can’t just ignore it.  I want to do what I can to keep other people safe.  I plan on being careful about it if that’s what you’re worried about.”

“That’s what I’m always worried about,” John snorted, “You’re an adult, you can make this choice, I’m just not thrilled about you doing this on your own.”

“I’m not doing it alone.  Malia loves the idea of beating up the bad guys, but she’d rather leave the rest of the grunt work to me.  Besides, you’ve met me and rules, right?  I’d give it six months before you’d have to boot me out for not following procedure or something.  Forensics is fascinating, but I can’t just sit cooped up in a lab wondering where the samples I’m working on came from and whether or not a case gets solved.  There’s a lot of things in this town that can’t always be handled in court and If I can help someone else from getting in way over their heads on a monthly basis, it’s worth it.”

John squeezed his shoulder, “You check in.  Often.  With multiple people, whether you’re working or not.  You don’t keep details from me, no matter how much you think I might want the plausible deniability later.  You take help when you think it’s something out of your weight class.”

“This feels an awful lot like those rules things I mentioned earlier,” Stiles mused to the kitchen table, but held up a hand quickly to forestall the look on his dad’s face, “But it’s not anything I hadn’t already considered doing.  I’m taking this seriously.”

“Good.”  His dad pulled him into a hug then tapped the neatly framed certificate laying on the table between them.  “You realize your real name is on that?”

“Nothing a post it note can’t cover up,” he grinned, “I don’t need everyone reading it trying to mangle it.”

**Author's Note:**

> I've been sitting on this for a couple months now, partially because of NaNoWriMo and partially because I've still got some unwritten chunks that I was trying to sort out. This piece can stand alone however, and I'm hoping actually getting it up will be the push I need to keep going on the rest of it. _Then_ I can figure out what to do with 112 pages of oh-god-the-editing-needed that came out of NaNo.


End file.
